Curse of Today
by Fandoms of the Opera
Summary: After the fire, life seemed kind of sort of average for Mike and Marionette. Summer was dreary and autumn was boring aside from ghost hunting with Vincent. Everything was average for them, until the mystery across the street moved in. Sequel of To Tomorrow.
1. Chapter 1

**How's it goin. Long time, no see, eh? I know I said I'd probably have 'From Yesterday' done or mostly finished by now, but it's been rough-it was 2016, okay? Also when Sister Location came out, I thought of this short. It…doesn't really have much to do with Sister Location's deep story line- but I thought those of you who read To Tomorrow would be entertained with this little short.**

"There! There! He just made a right at Cemetery Road!"

"He's going into the neighborhood!"

"Kids, get through the back entrances! Cut off his exits and we'll take him from the main entrance!"

"Vince, he's already gone!"

Mike skidded to a halt at the entrance to his own neighborhood, Lydia Estates. It was midnight, or a few minutes after. The crisp fall night air filled his heaving lungs and stung his nose. Just behind him and to his left was the town park, and across from that was the dark and infamous Cemetery Road, leading to the lonely three-way intersection that-when taking a left-would lead directly to an abandon warehouse.

Having abandon the decaying, dull-yellow robot suit, the pale violet-white ghost of Vincent hovered just beside him, his frizzy hair tied back into a loose ponytail. His shimmering ghost eyes scanned the area and he snapped his fingers. Even with his ghost-feet on the pavement, his tall, lanky shape towered over Mike. There was a ghost-manifested radio in his hand. He held down a button.

"Kids," He said into it. "Where'd you see him?"

The voice of a girl responded through the speaker. "I don't know; one minute he was here and the next he wasn't it's like he just teleported!" In a somewhat saddened voice she said, "I'm sorry, Vincent."

Vincent snapped in frustration, but when he spoke into the radio his voice was calmed. "It's okay; it's not your fault. This one's tricky."

The voice of a boy spoke through the speaker. "You say that about ALL of them!"

Vincent ignored him and turned to Mike. "Can you search for him? He can't be far from the neighborhood."

"Yeah," Mike nodded. "Give me a minute…" He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. He let his vision stretch all throughout the streets of the neighborhood, racing to each end and entrance. Towards the back of the neighborhood, he could see a garbled pale mass flying away. His vision flew backwards and became normal again. He felt a pinching sensation in his forehead, but he shook it away. "He's taking the back road- the one leading to the city…" He thought for a minute. "He'll probably go to Palms Place- it's a neighborhood off of that road. It's a lot different than this one- more trees and nature than houses."

Vincent nodded. "Thanks." He spoke into the speaker again. "Kids take the back road going towards the city and find Palms Place- he should be there or on the way."

"On it!" Five voices responded through the radio.

From behind Mike there was the smooth grinding of rollerblades on asphalt. Just a few inches shorter than him and as skinny as ever with a floral patterned scarf tied around her neck was Marionette, skating up to his side on rollerblades. She'd gotten them a few months ago and wore them everywhere.

When she caught up to him, she heaved over and put her hands on her skinny knees. "How can you run so fast? I'm on rollerblades!"

"Skinny on the outside, fatty on the inside." Vincent said. He raised his eyebrows at her. "That's you, Mary."

She made a face at him and Mike laughed.

"Come on," Vincent lifted off of the ground and soared into the neighborhood. "This is the quickest way to Palms Place; we need to hurry if we're ever going to have luck catching that ghost."

Mike and Marionette followed him at a brisk pace, weaving with quiet ease through the sleeping neighborhood. As they passed Mike's house, a slightly overweight Doberman pinscher howled at them.

It had been a while since the fire that destroyed the pizzeria where Mike had worked and his friends who lived there. Since then, life hadn't been too bad. The days were easy and the nights were calm…well, as calm as they could get with ghosts for your only other friends.

Vincent had kept his promise. After running off the ruthless spirit that plagued the warehouse, he and the ghost children studied the behavior of spirits left on the Earth plane and did whatever they could to help them cope with being left behind. More often than not, Mike and Marionette were roped into their ghost-hunting adventures. Talking to and calming a ghost was one thing, catching them was another.

As he ran, Mike's right eye was looking at the street he ran on, seeing it normally; the other was looking far ahead, planning out his path so that he wouldn't run the wrong way. Since the fire, he'd spent time working on and controlling the way he expanded his vision. He'd gotten past the headaches and could stretch his vision out for as far as a seven mile radius.

"What are you looking at?" Marionette asked, throwing a sideways glance at him with her white-pupil eyes.

"Just the path ahead." Mike said. Suddenly a shadow approached in his right eye and clouded his vision. "What…?" His eyes stung. "Agh!"

"Mike…? What are yo k…." Marionette's voice became muffled behind a wave of garbled sound that pierced his eardrums.

Mike shook his head, trying to clear his vision of the shadows that clogged his sight. He couldn't see, not even when he pulled his sight back to the way it should be. His shoulder slammed hard into something and he spun and fell. Marionette and Vincent zipped passed him, and Mike could faintly hear Vincent yelling excitedly through the radio.

Having fallen on the asphalt, Mike pushed himself up-now facing the path he'd come from- and realized he'd ran right into a person. They had fallen as well. The garbling in Mike's ears didn't stop. The stranger, nearly three yards from him, was frantically staggering to their feet.

"Hey…" Mike frowned.

The stranger stared at him and Mike suddenly felt a pounding in his head. The stranger was a young man, maybe just a few years younger than him, with violet-pink eyes that pierced him like daggers. He stared at Mike for a moment, turned, and sprinted away into the night.

Mike gripped the sides of his head, the pain hammering into his skull so harshly he gnashed his teeth and fought down a cry. His vision was blurring and he squeezed his eyes shut. He was faintly aware of Marionette standing near him and calling out his name. But, as he faded into darkness, the voices he heard didn't belong to her.

 _"Good grief! Who was that?!"_

 _"Jesus, couldn't one of us have warned the kid?"_

 _"What do you mean 'warn him'?! It's not like WE can do anything about it!"_

 _"Quiet up, all of ye- the poor lad might hear us…"_

His senses went numb.

* * *

Morning light filtered through the pale curtains of the small bedroom. Mike opened his eyes and realized he was laying face-down on his bed. He rolled over onto his back. The transparent gold seeping in through the windows turned his room to a soft yellow color. He looked at the digital clock on his bedside table. It was ten-thirty in the morning; Saturday. Just next to the clock, glittering and fracturing the light, was the mysterious snow globe of a pirate ship with a figure of Foxy at the bowsprit and a figure of Mike himself in the crow's nest. He stared at it for a minute, admiring the way it never looked old. The glass was never smudged. The plaque was never dull. It never collected a single speck of dust.

Despite the warmness of the room, it was most likely chilly outside. Mike sat up on his bed, his headache had vanished. The events of the night before swam dimly in his mind; he had been chasing ghosts…and then bumped into a stranger…A really strange stranger, at that. He rose from his bed and stretched, cracking his back.

Heaving a sigh, he left his bedroom and made a sharp left to the bathroom, where he splashed water in his face and looked in the mirror. He didn't look a day over twenty three, though in reality he was just a few years older. Marionette told him it was because of his eyes. They were big and round- 'curious' she had said. His hair was still as short as it'd always been. He'd tried to grow it out longer, just enough so that he could comb it and style it, but it had made him look like a high-school drug addict. He had a clean shave; the only time he'd tried to grow any sort of facial hair Marionette had pointed and laughed and told him he looked like a seven-year-old with fake stubble. It was no use, trying to look any older than he did. He was plain, it seemed. He wasn't handsome or ugly; he didn't have a square, set jaw and he didn't have a round baby face. He wasn't fat, and he wasn't muscular, and he wasn't lean and lanky. He was…average.

And that's what life had been since the event at the beginning of the summer; A bit sad, but mostly average. Now summer was over. He had started studying at the local college when fall rolled around. He had picked up the bassoon. Marionette had scoffed at him when he did, but shortly after she'd picked up the violin. She played it as if she'd been playing it her whole life.

Down the hall behind him, he heard a stirring from the couch. It was only then he realized that the television was on. He could see black feet hanging off over the armrest of the couch. His roommate, Marionette, was sitting (or lying) there watching TV.

Mike ran a hand through his short hair and lumbered tiredly down the hall to where she was. The sounds of the television became clearer and he noticed it was an episode of their favorite show, Chanteys.

"Is that a new one?" He asked with a yawn.

"Yeah," Marionette said, not looking at him. She was sitting with her feet over the armrest of the couch and her torso turned to face the television. Mike had said she looked awkward, but she'd told him it was comfortable. She was eating a small plate of eggs and bacon. "It's the one we missed when we were helping Vince last night."

Mike looked up at the television screen.

"And, being the good friend that you are, you went ahead and decided to watch it without me. I'm touched." He said sarcastically.

"You're darn right I did this one's _great_." She looked up at him. "Anyways I didn't know when you were going to wake up. After you ran into that jogger last night you blacked out and I had to carry you all the way back home. Without anyone's help." She narrowed her white-pupil eyes.

"Jogger?" Mike echoed, lacking in sympathy for her task. "He wasn't jogging- he was sprinting. It looked like he was running away from something."

Marionette shrugged. "I wasn't paying attention."

"And I'll have you know I didn't just 'black out'- something weird happened with my vision. It got all black and cloudy and I couldn't hear anything. Then right before I blacked out I heard…voices."

"Voices?" Marionette suddenly looked concerned. "What kind of voices?"

"I don't know, they sounded like…" Mike rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know."

"Well I won't mention much of it- since things have always been weird with you," Marionette adjusted her position on the couch. "But if it happens again, you should really talk to Vincent about it. He's an expert on schizophrenia."

"Schizophrenic?" Mike shook his head. "I don't think I am." But a gust of worry swept through him even so.

"Mike, there's no shame in it." Marionette rose from the couch with her plate and went into the kitchen. "Majority of all schizophrenics are completely harmless to everyone around them…there's just a tiny percentage in which some of them are."

Mike shrugged and yawned. "I'm gonna go change and probably practice my bassoon." He said, motioning towards his room.

Marionette poked her head out of the kitchen with a little frown. "No you're not."

"I'm not?"

"No, we're doing yard work today, remember?" She gestured outside to the front yard. "Raking and shit."

"Oh, right, I forgot." He grumbled and went to his room. "I'll be out in a minute."

Outside, the fall air was crisp and cold. Marionette had a warm scarf tied around her mouth and wore small brown boots with fur on the inside. Brown, dark red, dull orange, and tarnished golden leaves were scattered across the yard of the house. It was a simple house of gray brick seated neatly in between two larger houses with white-painted wooden fences surrounding them. Mike's house was slightly more open with a chain-link fence separating the garage and the open road from the front yard where Spike could run freely without being in danger of getting hit by a car.

Already, Marionette could hear a squealing voice coming from the neighbor to their right. Their awful neighbor, Helen, had finally moved out and another couple had moved in, bringing their daughter, Tulia, with them. Tulia was six with skin colored like a latte and dark brown hair in bushy pig-tails on her head. Sometimes she was annoying and sometimes she was sweet.

Marionette had already started raking leaves, creating a small pile in the middle of the yard. Spike was panting on the front porch, watching her work with a doggy-smile on his face. The front door opened and Mike stepped out in a dark brown coat and a beanie over his head.

"Jeez it's cold," he said, picking up the second rake that was leaning against the porch. He trotted down the porch steps and over to Marionette. "You'll get the front yard; I'll get the back yard. Sound good?"

Marionette nodded. "Then we'll get the sides."

"Alright." He took his rake and went around to the back yard, disappearing from sight.

For a while, they worked in the morning light. There wasn't a single cloud and the sky, and it was windy, which kept them from getting hot under the sun's rays. Unfortunately, a windy day meant that more leaves would be blown into the yard and their neat piles of leaves would be disrupted. The work wasn't hard, just tedious and plentiful.

Marionette had almost completely finished the front yard when she heard a yell from the back yard.

"Marionette!" Mike called.

"What?!" She yelled back.

"C'mere!"

She gave a little groan and walked around the house to the back yard, dragging her rake with her. At the back of the house, Mike was standing near the woods behind the yard, his arms crossed, looking curiously at the dark navy roof of the house.

"What?" She asked, a little annoyed.

"Look." Mike pointed to the roof. She followed his gaze and backed up to where he stood and saw a bright pink pony seated calmly on the slanted part of the roof.

Marionette tilted her head with a frown. "Is that one of Tulia's toys?"

"Yeah. I think she threw up there."

"How did she manage to do that?"

"Don't look at me, I don't know."

"What do you want to do about it?"

Mike looked at the sticks that littered the yard near the trees and grinned. "Bet you five bucks you can't get it down with one of these."

She grinned. "You're on."

They grabbed sticks and twigs and little hickory nuts from the yard and hurled them at the toy on the roof, trying to cause it to fall from its perch. After five minutes, nothing had happened. Disappointed, the two stopped and studied the toy on the roof, deep in thought.

"The hose." Mike said.

"Mm." Marionette gave a nod.

Five minutes later, they had drug the green garden hose around the house and Mike held it in his hand. Marionette turned the facet and Mike pressed down on the garden nozzle's level. A light shower fell out of the nozzle.

"Hey, nothing's happening." Mike called.

Marionette looked up at him and frowned. "That's because you have it set to 'sprinkle', dummy!" She said, marching over to him. "You need to set it to _jet_!"

He gave a half chuckled. "Oh, yeah, I forgot." He turned the nozzle to the preferred setting. When he pressed the lever again, a violent jet of water burst from the end of the nozzle and onto the tiny back porch of the house (which was just behind the kitchen), spraying the wood with icy water.

"You're supposed to spray the toy on the roof." Marionette whispered to him.

He stuck his tongue out at her and she snickered. He pointed the nozzle towards the little pink toy and sprayed at it. Unfortunately, the water wouldn't reach that high.

"The ladder." Mike said.

"Mm." Marionette nodded.

Five minutes later, Marionette came around the side of the house again, tugging with her the rickety wooden ladder Mike kept in the garage. She set it up unsteadily in the grass and Mike climbed on. It wobbled underneath his feet and Marionette stood behind him in case he fell, eyeing him uncertainly.

Mike pressed down on the garden hose lever again and the jet of water hit the glittery pink toy. Only, the water stream pushed the toy farther up the roof, instead of knocking it down. Mike took his thumb off of the lever.

He and Marionette both tilted their heads and frowned slightly at the toy.

Mike looked down at her from the ladder. "Wanna get McDonald's?"

"Yeah."

They abandon their yard work, ladder, hose, and roof-toy and walked around to the front of the house, heading to the side gate to get to the garage. As they did, Mike saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked across the street to the house in front of his. The 'For Sale' sign that had been there for years was gone. A young man with thin strawberry blonde hair that steered clear of his eyes walked out of the front door and down to his mailbox. Mike didn't need to expand his vision to see the man's bright pink-violet eyes.

Mike frowned at him, recognizing him as the man he bumped into the night before. "Who's that?" He asked Marionette.

"Hm?" She looked up and followed his gaze. "Oh, look at that. New neighbor!" She smiled at him. "We should get him a house-warming gift while we're out."

"Why?" Mike frowned.

"Because I've never done that before and I feel like we should welcome him nicely into the neighborhood as good members of the community." Marionette said.

"You didn't do that for Tulia and her family." He raised an eyebrow at her.

"That's because as soon as Tulia stepped out of the car, I waved, and she threw her Barbie and it hit me in the face." Marionette muttered grudgingly.

Mike chuckled and rolled his eyes, opening the gate. "Alright, I'll check how much cash I have." But as she walked on to the garage, he stole another glance at the young man. He had a hipster look about him, and leaned on his hip as he looked at his mail. Mike frowned and followed Marionette.

After getting and eating lunch, the two went to the dollar store and bought their new neighbor an analog clock- it was the only thing they could agree on. As they drove back to the neighborhood (with Marionette at the wheel), they continued to argue about it.

"I still think we should've gotten him the soaps." Marionette said.

"Marionette, what is a single guy gonna do with a bunch of fancy smelling soaps?" Mike asked.

"Use them?"

"And smell like a daffodil? _I_ wouldn't use them."

"Yeah, well fancy soaps are a better gift than a freakin' rug."

"It's a mat you can wipe your feet on when you come inside!" Mike argued. "And a RUG is a better gift than a collection of your favorite book series- which, by the way, is stupid."

"You shut up about that right now- and a collection of books is a whole lot better than a bowl of fake fruit."

"Oh, come on, the fake fruit is _classic_."

"Whatever," Marionette rolled her eyes as she pulled into the neighborhood. "Hey, shut up and stop being stupid, we need to make a good impression on this dude." She navigated at a slow speed down the street until she reached their destination and pulled into the young man's driveway.

Together, they climbed out of the car with their gift and approached their neighbor's front door. Marionette knocked three times.

There was a pause. The front door opened and the young man appeared, his strawberry-blonde hair combed to shield one of his pink-violet eyes. He jumped at the sight of Marionette, who smiled at him.

"Good afternoon!" She said.

He stared at her with widened eyes and when he spoke his voice was soft. "I heard about you before I moved here, but I didn't realize I'd live so close to you." He looked at Mike. "I heard about your story."

Mike rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Yeah, it's a queer one, isn't it?"

"Yes..." The man nodded. His pink eyes trailed downwards for a moment, fixing on the ground. He then looked up at them again. "Can I help you two?"

"We just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood." Marionette said. She threw out her hand. "I'm Marionette Fitzgerald, and this is my roommate Mike Schmidt-we live across the street."

The man hesitantly shook her hand. "I'm Jack Ferdinand." He said, looking at her. "I didn't expect you to have a last name."

"Yeah, I figured I'd need one if I was going to be a member of society, and Mike didn't want me with his last name- he said it'd be weird, so I just went with another friend of mine's."

"You never told me you made your last name Fitzgerald." Mike muttered at her.

"I don't tell you everything." She hissed back.

"Fitzgerald…That sounds awfully familiar." Mike frowned.

Jack blinked at them and Marionette grabbed the clock from Mike's arms and held it out to him. "We got you a housewarming present!"

He took it from her hands and looked at it. The corners of his lips smiled a little. "Thank you. I can put it in the kitchen." He looked up at them. "Would you like to come in?"

"Sure!" Marionette said cheerily.

Jack stepped out of the way so that they could enter his house. It was cozy looking with soft carpets and little bird decorations that reminded Mike of something straight out of Pinterest. The walls were painted pale colors and the couch had throw pillows with inspirational or meaningful quotes about life sewn into them. The smell of vanilla was ever present in the house.

"You live alone?" Mike asked, taking in the sight of the house.

Jack walked to the kitchen and looked around. The kitchen was similar to the rest of the house and had a stencil on the wall above the oven that said 'This kitchen is seasoned with love'. The spoons and pots and pans were in cute and neat nooks and turnabouts and everything was in a nice order. "Yes." Jack said, choosing to hang the clock by the stainless steel refrigerator.

Marionette walked across the kitchen to the bar where a bowl of butter was seated nicely on the gray marble countertop. "Why do you have so much butter?" She asked, looking at it. "Russian garli- what kind of butter _is_ this?"

"It's a gift I got from my last job." Jack said. "They're supposed to be exotic."

Marionette laughed. "That's a weird gift- who gives exotic butter as a gift?"

Jack looked a little embarrassed. "…I like them." He clasped his fingers together in a dainty way in front of him, looking at them.

Mike looked at the décor. "Nice little cozy feeling you've got going on in here." He said. "Where'd you come from?"

"I came from a place in Utah." Jack said quietly. "It was alright…" He pinched the bridge of his nose as if he was getting a headache. When he looked up again, he smiled broadly. "It was wonderful…But it wasn't for me. I'd lived there my whole life…I felt a little trapped, you know?"

Marionette nodded, still looking at the butter bowl. "I know what that's like."

"I figured I should see a little more of the world, and you can't go wrong with North Carolina, can you? You've got the beach and the mountains all in one state."

Mike gave a chuckle. "Don't get your hopes soaring there. The mountains aren't exactly the Rockies, and the beaches aren't exactly those white-sand Florida beaches."

"Well I think it's lovely here." Jack smiled.

Mike nodded, though he couldn't help getting a queer air from the young man. _Lovely isn't exactly the term I'd use._ He mentally shook his head, but the uncertainty about the man stayed. He looked at Jack up and down.

"You've got some pink eyes, there." He said.  
"Pink eye?" Marionette paused. "You might want to see a doctor about that."

"Oh, no, I don't have pink _eye_ , I have pink _eyes_." Jack tilted his head ever so slightly. "Although, I think they're a little purple at times."

"Are they contacts?" Mike asked.

"No, they're my natural color." Jack smiled.

"Uh huh," Mike looked around the kitchen again.

"Would you like some tea?" Jack asked. "I have a pretty colorful assortment."

Before Marionette could answer, Mike said, "No, I'm sorry, we have to get back to doing yard work."

"Oh, yeah," Marionette nodded, though she was frowning at Mike.

"Oh, sorry to see you go so soon. Maybe next time then?" Jack asked hopefully.

"Yeah, sure, why not?" Mike said, though he wasn't really listening to him. Jack showed them to the door and they left his house. As soon as the door had shut, Marionette turned to Mike with a slight frown.

"What was that about?" She asked him.

"That dude is weird." Mike muttered, heading back to the car. "Really weird- pink _natural_ eyes? I don't think so."

"Okay, so maybe he was fibbing about having pretty eyes, but that's not a big deal is it?" Marionette asked him as they climbed into their car.

"I get bad vibes from that guy, he seems…off." Mike frowned as Marionette started the car.

"Maybe he's just got a little sugar in his tank." Marionette shrugged.

Mike considered that, thinking of Jack's quietness and the ever-present smell of vanilla in his house. "Maybe…" He rubbed his chin.

* * *

Marionette sat at the front desk of the town library, reading a rather thick book with the title 'Fight'. It was the third book in the 'Rising Knight' series. There had been two books so before it: Serve and Crumble. Next fall would be the release of the final book-Rise- and Marionette was more than excited to read it. The series was about the rise of a knight since their first day in training in their country's army- about their struggle to be the best and their undying devotion to the prince of the country.

She leaned her nose down closer to the pages of the book as its words went for a spin. It had just gotten to the good part…

"Excuse me," A soft voice brought Marionette out of the world of her book.

She looked up over the desk and saw Jack, her neighbor from across the street, standing in front of her. She had to blink for a minute as she looked at him- the big windows were right behind him and she hadn't realized how sunny it was outside when she'd been buried in her story.

"Hey, Jack," She said with a smile, closing her book. "What brings you here?"

"A story…" He rubbed the back of his neck shyly.

Marionette nodded. "Are you looking for it by title?" She reached for the keyboard on the little library computer.

"Um…n-not exactly, I want to find a book to read, but I don't exactly know which one to pick up." He explained.

"Oh, I can help you." Marionette sat up. "What kind of book are you looking for?"

"Mmm…Something along the lines of romance." Jack tapped his chin. His pink eyes shifted behind the lenses of his thick-framed glasses.

"Okay…Follow me." Marionette stepped from behind the desk and led him around the maze of the library to an aisle of books with thick covers and flirtatious titles. "Here's the romance section." She climbed a ladder leaning against a shelf. "So are you looking for angst, drama, supernatural…?"

"Mmm…supernatural." Jack said after a moment of consideration.

Marionette pushed off and slid along the shelf, holding onto the ladder and skimming the spines of novels until she found what she was looking for. "There's a lot- people love the supernatural romance."

"Do you have anything on vampires?" Jack asked, his pink eyes glistening a tad.

She turned and smirked at him. "Vampires? I didn't know guys were into that sort of thing." She turned back to the shelf. "I feel like you watch the Vampire Diaries."

He shuffled his feet and blushed. "Maybe…"

"We've got plenty on vampires…oh!" She stopped and pulled out a book with a very thick spine. It had a picture of a moon half obscured by shadows and bright purple eyes beneath it. The title read 'Half Moon'. "This one is my FAVORITE!"

"Half Moon?" Jack echoed. His eyebrows frowned a bit. "Is it…Like Twilight? I've already read that series."

"Oh, no. I know it sounds like it is." Marionette stepped down from the ladder with the book in her hand. "It's actually not about vampires. It's about these monsters that are REALLY big and dangerous and- oh, I'm going to spoil it. But it's _really_ good I promise." She handed it to him.

Jack looked the cover over, flipped it and looked at the back of the book, and very briefly leafed through the pages.

"But," Marionette said. "If you'd rather read one with vampires- I can pull one down for you."

"No," Jack smiled at her. "I'll take this one."

"Alright, I'll check it out for you." Marionette waved her hand and led him back to the front desk. She reached her hand out to take his library card and he handed it over. "So how're you doing in town?" She asked him as she checked out his book.

"Pretty well. The people are nice." Jack said. "I'm…not sure where I should get a job, though."

"Well," Marionette handed him his book and card. "It depends on your interests and skill set…and education. You go to college?"

"Yeah, I'm actually-" He paused and looked away for a moment. When he looked up again, he smiled. "I…actually like singing. And dancing- kind of in the ballet style, you know?"

Marionette paused and looked Jack up and down. He was wearing gray skinny jeans, black vans, a dark jacket, and a gray scarf.

He realized she was staring and looked hurt. "…It's weird?" He went red in the face.

"Huh?" Marionette was jerked from her silence. "No- that's not what I meant- it's normal for guys to like ballet- I mean, I love the Nutcracker- it's just…you really didn't seem like the type to like ballet- I mean…uh…I…I feel like you'd be more into pop or something more…hipster?"

Jack gave her a shy smile. "I like pop music…I just…kind of feel self conscious when it comes to dancing to it, you know?"

She nodded, but couldn't relate. As she was talented at singing, she often loved to listen to and sing along with whatever came on the radio. But, after her coma, she was still adjusting to the pop hits of today, and much preferred selections from the 70's and 80's. She herself was never necessarily fond of dancing…and not in front of people, either.

"Would you like to come to my house?" His offer jerked her out of her thoughts. "We could have tea, if you like…Or are you busy?"

Marionette nodded. "Yeah, I get off at, like…" She squinted, thinking. "I dunno…I should probably be home around 2:15. If you come by then, Mike will probably be home, too."

"Okay, that sounds wonderful!" He turned with his book to leave.

As Marionette watched him walk out the door, she thought about what Mike had said to her. She gave her head a little shake. He wasn't weird- at least, not in a dangerous or creepy way. In fact, the young man seemed awfully timid. Perhaps he was only trying to adjust to his new town.

* * *

Mike, after a long day at the college, threw his back on the couch and fell into his recliner. After a moment, he went into his room and started putting together his bassoon. He'd been given a list of solos to play and it all made a pretty thick stack of paper. Even so, playing the instrument would do well to relieve some stress.

He parted his lips to play on the double-reed instrument and took a breath. Before he could make a sound, however, there was a knocking at the door. Spike howled in the living room. Mike grumbled and set down his bassoon. It was probably Tulia coming to yell at him. She'd probably spotted her toy on his roof and was pitching a fit.

"Coming! I'm coming!" He called, walking down the hallway and through his living room to the front door. He was very surprised when he opened the door and saw Jack standing there. "Oh…uh, hey, Jack."

Jack looked as equally-but pleasantly- surprised to see him. "H-hello…" he stammered quietly. "Is…Marionette there? S-she invited me over."

"At this time?" Mike looked at the clock. It was 2:16. "That's weird. She gets off at like 2:45…Maybe she meant 3:15."

"Oh…" Jack awkwardly shuffled his feet and looked at the ground. "W-well…uh…"

Mike forced himself not to roll his eyes. "Would you like to come in?" He offered dryly.

"Yes, please." Jack smiled behind his pink eyes, looking almost relieved.

Mike stepped to the side as Jack walked in and closed the door behind them. Jack looked around at his house, observing it. He jumped in a frightened way as Spike ran up to him, eagerly wagging his stump of a tail.

"He won't bite," Mike said. "He's a softie."

"…Okay." Jack hesitated before touching Spike's head, as if he'd never pet a dog before. He smiled and stroked the Doberman's back all the way down to his stubby tail. "He's so soft!"

"Yeah, he loves attention." Mike rolled his eyes at his pet. "You want something to drink?"

"Do you have tea?" Jack asked, sitting down on the floor and allowing Spike to lick his face.

Mike shook his head, heading into the kitchen. "Nah. We've got Coca-Cola."

"That's fine." Jack said. His eyes got sight of Mike's DVD collection in his entertainment center. "Chanteys?" He asked.

Mike had forgotten that Marionette had gotten him seasons one and two of Chanteys on DVD for his birthday. "Yeah." He said testily. "You watch it?"

"No, what is it?" Jack asked.

"Graphic." Mike said bluntly with a chuckle.

"Graphic how?" Jack asked. "Violently or…" He trailed off as Mike looked at him.

"Just…graphic." Mike blinked. "You can watch it if you want." He looked at his watch. "I can call Marionette just to see what time she'll be getting off."

"You want to watch it with me?"

Mike hesitated and stared at Jack. There was something about the way he was looking at Mike that set him off. Something about his pretty pink eyes just…wasn't right. "I have to practice my bassoon." He said, even though he knew it'd be very rude to go off in his room and leave his guest alone in his living room.

"You play an instrument?" Jack's eyes widened and glistened with interest. "You're so talented!"

Mike shook his head and gave a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, you say that now, but you haven't heard me play. Go talk to Marionette- she's the talent. She can sing and play the violin like a pro."

"I'm sure you're just as talented as she is." He smiled with genuine kindness.

Mike tensed. It was something about Jack's sweetness and his open curiosity that made him uneasy about the young man. "Well, let me go get that Coke for you." He disappeared into the kitchen and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He quickly typed a message to Marionette and sent it. As he grabbed a cold Coke out of the refrigerator, he got her response: "Went to the warehouse to visit Jeremy real quick."

Mike rolled his eyes and stifled a groan, but he knew he couldn't be too angry. Ever since Vincent ran the evil ghost out of the warehouse, he'd been helping Jeremy recover from his torture there. Marionette had been more than eager to help. She visited him often, and Jeremy was coming along very well. Even though he still seemed timid, Marionette said that was how he always was.

 _It's fine._ Mike told himself. _She won't be gone long or anything._

How wrong he was.

After a brief conversation with Jack, Mike had gone to put up his bassoon-he wouldn't practice it now. He'd returned to the living room to find Jack curiously opening Marionette's violin case. He begged Mike to teach him the basics, and Mike had helped. Even so, he felt awfully uncomfortable with the way Jack leaned into him while Mike set the placement of his hands on the instrument.

He also struggled to feel comfortable with Jack's voice; quiet and sugary sweet, like he was the most innocent thing in the world. It wasn't flamboyant or lispy, and it wasn't forced-it was actually very natural, and it confused Mike as to why he hated it so much. He almost felt bad for the way he mentally picked on the young man.

Jack became more and more curious to watch Chanteys and, surprisingly, found it funny…for the first few episodes. Then, he started to realize what Mike had meant by 'graphic' and only watched through fingers while he covered his eyes. Once, a scene startled him so much that he jumped with a yelp and clung to Mike, who pushed him away very uncomfortably.

Around episode six, Mike looked at the clock. It was 7:13. He ran a hand through his short hair. "Looks like Marionette got sidetracked." He muttered.

Jack moved his hands from his face and looked from the clock to the window. The sun had mostly set and all that was left were red and orange shadows creeping through the glass. "It looks like I did too. I…I'm sorry to have spent most of your time waiting here." He said, standing and rubbing the back of his neck. "I should probably be going…" He seemed hesitant to leave.

"I'll tell Marionette you came by." Mike stood and went to the door to see Jack out of his house. _I already did, but she ignored me._ He thought wryly.

On the front porch, Jack pulled his coat tighter around him. For a moment, his pink eyes took on a glassy stare, gazing out at the crimson sun setting behind rows of neighborhood houses. His face seemed to pale.

"Well, see you around, I guess." Mike shrugged.

Jack didn't answer him. His pink eyes were glazed over with something that Mike couldn't read.

"…Jack?"

"I need to talk to you." Jack whispered suddenly. He drew closer to Mike, his eyes staring at him seriously. "I…I _really_ need to talk to you."

"Alright." Mike shrugged, staring at him without knowing how to react. "So…talk."

"I can't…" Jack looked down. "N-not…here. Not now." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little slip of paper. He pressed it in the palm of Mike's hand.

"Is this your phone number?" Mike asked bluntly.

"Y-yes…will you call me, please?" Jack asked. "I-it's very important."

Mike shifted. "Look, pal-"

Jack suddenly gripped Mike's shirt in his hands, his eyes flashed with desperation. "It's very important, please, you have to he-" He stopped suddenly as if someone had slapped him in the face. His head stared blankly and tilted down, hiding his eyes. His hands shook ever so slightly.

Mike only stared at him, standing tensely and even glancing around to see if any of the other neighbors were watching. Jack didn't let go of him. After a moment Mike cleared his throat. "Please let go of me."

Jack let go of him suddenly. "My, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." He said with a little smile as if he hadn't just made a scene. "Have a good night, neighbor. I'll see you around." He nodded and walked away, back to his house.

Mike stared at him, watching him until he vanished through his door. Confused, he opened the slip of paper and looked at the number written on it. It was a cell phone number. He frowned. "I knew there was something weird about that freakin' guy." He muttered.

"Woooooow," A voice startled him from his thoughts and he saw the figure of Marionette skating on her roller blades up to the house. "Mike, good grief, I leave you alone for just a little bit of time and you've got yourself a boyfriend."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. I'm not like that." He glared at her. "By the way, thanks for leaving me here with him alone for a few hours. I thought you said it'd be a quick visit to the warehouse?"

"Yeaaaahhh…" Marionette shrugged. "I lied." She caught sight of the paper in his hands and snatched it. "What's this?" She opened it and read it. Her white-pupil eyes flew wide open and her mouth gaped. She threw back her head and laughed. "I was just kidding!" She cried. "He's actually _hitting_ _on_ _you_ dude!"

Mike shook his head and couldn't help but chuckle. "I don't…" He glanced over to Jack's house and shook his head. "He's just…weird."

 **This was meant to be a one-shot, but it turned out longer than I expected, so I'll have to break it down into two/ three parts (chapters). Also, yes, this short is based off of the ending events of To Tomorrow.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I should probably add in that I finished this whole story before I posted each part. If you've got any questions or comments those are greatly appreciated.**

"How'd Vincent say he was doing with that ghost?" Mike asked Marionette as they walked down Cemetery Road together towards the warehouse. It was an overcast day and slowly getting colder. The trees around them were mostly bare, slowly losing their plentiful leaves and exposing their drab trunks and scrawny branches.

"He and the kids weren't there when I visited yesterday," Marionette said through her scarf. "But Vincent's probably got it under control."

As the trees thinned and the cemetery came into sight on the left side of the road, Mike turned his head and gazed at the orchard of graves. It was still and quiet, but Mike had seen ghosts there before, crying or throwing fits. He knew they were all unaware that he could see them- not every human had the ability to spot ghosts.

Marionette followed his gaze. "I don't see anything." She observed after a moment. She nudged Mike in the ribs and when he turned to look at her, she was smirking.

"What?" He frowned, turning his full attention to her as the cemetery began to vanish into the trees once more.

"How are YOU doing?"

"What do you mean?" He frowned deeper. Realization dawned on him and he rolled his eyes. "Marionette, shut up about him."

"Have you _called_ him yet?"

"No." He said strictly. "And I don't plan to. If _he's_ a knob jockey, fine. But I'm not like that, alright?" She laughed and he continued. "Besides, he's like twenty-one or twenty-two and I'm almost twenty-nine." He said. He wrinkled his nose. "I'm almost thirty…I'm about to be old."

"Thirty isn't old," Marionette shrugged. "It's…almost old."

"I'm _almost_ almost old, Marionette!"

"Well you still LOOK like you're twenty-one!" She laughed and shook her head. "I don't see what your problem is with Jack."

"It's just…There's something about him I don't like. He's _off_ , Marionette, something's not right." Mike said, frowning.

"See, I don't see anything bad about him." Marionette shook her head. "I mean, he likes Vampire Diaries and ballet, but-"

"That's not what I mean." Mike said as the three-way intersection began to come into sight, along with the lonely gas station. If they went left, they'd end up at the warehouse. If they went right, they'd end up at the remains of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. "It's something else…I can't explain it. The way he acts sometimes, it _feels_ like he's faking it but at the same time he seems so natural, I can't tell."

"I think you should just relax and give him a chance." Marionette said, tapping on her cell phone.

"Maybe you're right and I'm just being a jerk." Mike sighed. A minute later, he heard 'Unintended' coming from Marionette's black-and-floral jacket pocket.

He frowned. "If your phone's in your pocket, then…?"

She quickly handed him the phone she was holding. "It's for you." She reached in and grabbed her own phone, answering it quickly."

Mike held his phone to his ear and heard it dialing. He scowled at her, but before he could say anything, Jack had answered the phone.

"…H-hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Mike? Ah, I was hoping you'd call."

"Yeaaah..about that-

"Listen, I hate to rush things, and I know this probably makes you uncomfortable, but I have to tell you; I feel really safe around you, you know. I-I feel like I can talk to you… Listen, s-something weird's been going on w-with me lately-"

"I hate to stop you there, pal. But I can't talk about your problems at the minute I'm busy." Mike said, ready to hang up.

"O-oh, I-I'm sorry…W-when should I call you again?"

"…Uhhh…We-"

"Ah, hold t-that thought- I have to go."

Before Mike could say 'Goodbye' Jack had hung up on him. He rolled his eyes and shoved his phone in his pocket just as Marionette ended her call.

"That was Vincent." She said without waiting for him to tell her how his conversation had gone. "He's at the warehouse with the kids."

Mike frowned. "…He can call you…?"

"Yeah, he uses some kind of ghost signal…" She shook her head. "It's weird." They made a left at the intersection and passed by the gas station without going in and continued on an empty two-way street towards the lonely warehouse.

"Did he say anything else?" Mike asked. "Maybe about…hm, I don't know… _Jeremy_?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

She gave him a look. "No."

* * *

The warehouse looked as crumbling and as dead as ever as they approached it. The glass doors were grimy. Vines and vegetation had almost completely covered the right outer wall. It looked even creepier surrounded by the forest of bare trees.

As unwelcoming as it looked, Mike and Marionette walked fearlessly through the glass doors into the building. Inside were aisles and aisles of shelves piled high with ancient things that people had put here over the years, covered in dust and long forgotten by their owners.

Leaning up against one of the aisles, facing the entrance doors, was a floor ceiling. Mike and Marionette walked up and gazed at their reflections.

"Can I say it this time?" Marionette asked.

"Sure."

Marionette clapped her palms together and looked into the mirror.

" _Mirror, mirror in the shed_

 _Show me wants left_

 _Of the early dead."_

At once, the shelves and aisles of the warehouse vanished. The old and chipped walls were replaced with neat, clean-looking ones. The hard, drab tile beneath their feet turned to a soft white carpet. The scene before them turned into what looked like a large hotel lobby. There were a few closed wooden doors here and there that lead to rooms. There was a small indoor fountain, a few comfortable looking benches with cushions, a few small wooden tables for games, and a bookshelf.

Once again, Mike was impressed by the way ghosts could create small realms within Earth. He knew they couldn't do it for a long range, and most of them did it as a way to torture the living, but it was still fascinating.

The mirror that had been leaning against an aisle now leaned against a sign with an image of a stick figure that had large, feathery wings turned upside down on their back. The words 'Backwards Angel' were written over the image.

Mike's image had not changed in the mirror, but where Marionette's image should be was the image of a beautiful, slender young lady with a black, sleeveless a-line dress over a white, long-sleeved button up shirt. She had pale skin and snowy white hair that hugged her heart-shape face and ended at the nape of her neck. It was a reflection of her soul.

Marionette smiled at the image. "Man, I wish I looked like that all the time." She sighed, looking almost hurt.

"You will, one day." A timid voice said. "Don't rush it."

Marionette whirled around and her eyes lit up. "Jeremy!" Her hands jerked for a minute to go and hug him, but she held them to her sides. While it looked real, the rules still applied; the living couldn't touch a ghost. She would fall right through him. Instead, she asked, "How are you?"

"Pretty good." He rubbed the back of his neck."Better than I was…What about you?"

"I'm pretty good." She looked at her feet. "I've almost got down that solo you wrote for the violin. Uh…Do you remember? I-it was some kind of serenade."

"Y-yeah, I do…" He shuffled his feet. "I have my violin and cello- and there's a piano in the other room…I-if you want to go and play something." He looked at her reflection in the mirror and his face turned a light shade of pink.

"Yeah, that sounds like fun!" Marionette said with a smile.

"What sounds like fun?"

Mike turned around and caught sight of a teenage girl around the age of sixteen with raggedy brown hair. She was wearing shorts and a pink sweatshirt with the words 'Backwards Angel' written on them.

"Hey…Jess?" Mike frowned, taken aback very suddenly with her appearance.

She blew a bubble with bubblegum and popped it, smiling. "Hey, Mike." She said. "I guess you wanna see Vincent?" She jerked her head towards one of the closed doors. "He's helping someone right now, but he'll be out in just a bit."  
"Nice sweatshirt." Mike commented, looking it up and down. "You guys are a company now?"

Jess looked at her clothes and popped another bubble, chuckling a little. "Vincent manifested one, and then we all just kind of did the same thing. So I guess we're some kind of organization, yeah."

"Do you help with counseling too or just catching ghosts?" Mike asked. He knew how ghosts became left behind; whenever someone died before their due time (because of an accident or murder or even suicide) their spirit had to remain on Earth until the day they were meant to die. Most ghosts weren't exactly peachy-keen about it, and they threw fits or hid themselves away, torturing any living being that came near to them. Vincent and the kids-being left behind themselves- sought out to find spirits struggling with the issue and help them through it.

Jess shrugged. "We're not…ALL that great at counseling- so we mostly just leave it to Vincent. But we're working on it." She smacked her gum. "The trick is that everybody acts differently to the situation. You've got to know how to help each person specifically."

She looked around the room. "It's not all bad though, someone actually just moved on to the afterlife yesterday."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Jess nodded. "She was really looking forward to seeing her kids."

"Where are the others?" Mike asked, looking around for the other ghost children.

"They're down by the creek." She said. "Except Laura- she's shadowing Vincent today while he helps with the ghosts."

Just as she said that, one of the wooden doors opened behind her and Vincent walked out of the room with Laura just at his side. She was a teenager as well; taller, with a more slender build. Mike wouldn't have recognized her if it wasn't for her clothing. She was wearing two blue flower clips in her hair and an aqua Backwards Angel sweatshirt with black shorts and jogging sneakers.

"Nice Nikes, Laura." Mike commented.

"Thaaaanks." Laura kicked her foot out. "I saw 'em in a store and manifested my own."

"You guys look like teenagers!" Marionette said, suddenly aware that there were a few other ghosts in the room besides Jeremy.

Vincent nodded extensively with raised eyebrows. "They _all_ do."

" _Technically_ , we've been on Earth just as long as _he_ has." Laura pointed to Mike. "We just never showed it before."

"I think it's because of the way they were treated." Vincent says. "Freddy and the others still tended to shelter them like children- so that's all they ever were spiritually. Or it could be that ghosts age slower than humans. Or it could be that they just decided to suddenly age ten years." He shrugged. "I don't know, but they certainly have taken to the teenager attitude." He ran a hand through his ponytail.

"I'm thinking of modifying my hair," Laura told Jess. "Making it longer, so that I don't have that little kid look."

Jess shook her head. "Nah. The short hair fits you still- you look like a bitch."

Vincent rolled his eyes as Laura chuckled and rolled her eyes. "See what I mean?"

"How are the boys?" Marionette asked, looking Laura and Jess up and down.

"Loud but pretty funny." Jess said and Laura snorted.

"So what brings you here today?" Vincent asked Mike and Marionette. "Or did you guys just come to hang out?"

"I came to visit Jeremy." Marionette said nodded to Jeremy who was looking towards another room with the symbol of a quarter note on it. Vincent-being himself- had created a room full of every musical instrument he knew of, free for any ghost to use.

"Of course _you_ did." Vincent rolled his eyes as she turned back to Jeremy and headed off with him.

"I just came here because I have nothing better to do." Mike shrugged.

"WAIT A MINUTE!" Marionette yelled suddenly, running back over to Vincent and dragging Jeremy with her by the wrist. "I almost forgot!" She pointed to Mike. "He has a boyfriend."

Laura and Jess gasped and Laura stomped her foot. "I knew it! I knew he was gay!"

Mike threw back his head and groaned. "I don't have a boyfriend!" He yelled while Marionette laughed. "He's just this neighbor who moved in; he's really weird-

"And he totally has a crush on Mike." Marionette pulled her phone from her floral jacket pocket and tapped through it. "He gave him his number and everything."

Jeremy raised his eyebrows. "When did all that happen?"

"Like yesterday." Marionette said. She showed her screen to Vincent.

Vincent looked at the screen-which displayed a photo of Jack- and his lip curled up into a smile. He laughed. "Well, lookit that Mike, you've got yourself a little twink!"

"Awww," Laura smiled.

Mike only frowned at Marionette. "Where did you get that picture?"

"Mike, he's really cute, you should go for him." Jess grinned.

"You know, that would be sweet and all, except for the fact that I'm _straight_." Mike smiled at them sarcastically. "Besides, he's _weird_. Like…I don't know, I get queer vibes from this guy."

"It's called 'homophobia'." Jess said with a snicker. Laura laughed.

Mike rolled his eyes at her. "No, he's just…"He shook his head. "I really don't like this dude."

Vincent rubbed his chin curiously. He raised an eyebrow with a smile. "Have you tried spying on him?"

"What?" Marionette asked, already halfway towards Jeremy again.

"Go spend time with your boyfriend! I'm talking to Mike!" Vincent shooed her off.

Marionette's red cheeks glowed and Jeremy's face went strawberry red. They shuffled their feet awkwardly, but left together towards the music room.

"Spy on him?" Mike frowned at Vincent. "…What do you mean?"

"You've got extended vision, don't you?" Vincent crossed his arms. "You _can_ spy on him, if he really concerns you."

Mike rubbed the back of his neck. "…I don't know. I mean, yeah, he kind of gives me the jitters, but spying on him…that's a little rude."

"You know, you can get one of us to spy on him, too, right?" Jess gestured to herself and Laura. "We're ghosts. There's only certain circumstances in which the living can see ghosts- and we can cloak ourselves if we need to."

Just then, the front door of the place burst open and John, Chris, and Paul rushed in, all yelling for Vincent. Like Laura and Jess, they were bigger and all wearing a Backwards Angel sweatshirt.

"Vincent- we saw a ghost!" John said.

"Yeah, she was down by the creek!" Chris added.

"We tried to get her, but she ran off!" Paul cried. "She's not far, if we leave now, we can probably find her."

Vincent listened to them all and nodded. "Alright, let's go." He looked at Jess and Laura. "Which one of you stays?

"I don't know," Jess turned to her companion. "Laura, what do you want?"

Laura looked at Mike. "Do you want me to go back with you to check out that weird neighbor?"

Mike twitched his lip. "Do you mind?"

"Na." She shook her head. "Vince I'll go with him."

"Alright, Jess that means you stay here in case any of the spirits need anything while I'm gone." He looked from Laura to Jess. "You two be safe." After that, he rushed away with Chris, Paul, and John following close behind him.

Laura gestured to the floor mirror. "You do the honors." She said to Mike.

As they both approached the mirror, Mike looked his reflection over briefly before pressing his palms together.

" _Mirror mirror, all alone_

 _Send me back_

 _Send me home."_

All around them, the lobby-like structure of the warmly lit room began to vanish. The fountain disappeared. The carpet turned to cold tile. The friendly glow vanished to an unwelcoming steel gray. Once, again, Mike was standing in the warehouse.

Laura was still beside him, but she was pale and transparent. She leaned on her hip. "So, you want me to vanish until we get to your neighborhood?"

"If you feel that's best." Mike said. "I don't want to uncomfortably walk in silence all the way back home."

She laughed. "Nah, I can still talk to you, you just won't be able to see me is all."

He shrugged. "Yeah, that's fine."

Her transparent shape faded until she had completely disappeared from Mike's sight. "Ready when you are." Her voice said out of thin air.

"Alright, let's go." Mike pushed open the grimy doors to the warehouse and headed back to his house. It was still overcast and rather gloomy, and still plenty cold. Mike drew his coat tighter around him as a chilly breeze swept through, winding itself around the leafless trees of the woods.

As he drew close to the lonely gas station at the three way intersection, he heard Laura's voice in his ear.

"The dude that works there is really freakin' creepy."

"At the gas station?" Mike asked as he made a right onto Cemetery Road. He extended his vision ever so slightly through the large glass windows of the convenience store and saw a man with scraggly facial hair looking bored while he stood at the counter.

"Yeah, Jess and I went in there just to look around and the dude was just being really creepy like he was pantomiming things and there was dead-ass _no_ _one_ there."

"That's a red flag." Mike nodded.

"Yeah."

"Kind of surprised at how sarcastic you and Jess are all of a sudden," Mike said. "That's not like you guys."

Laura gave a bit of a stressed laugh. "We practically lived with Bonnie for twenty years- and he never exactly had a strong filter."

Mike laughed. "No he didn't." He shook his head.

He turned his head to the right as they passed the cemetery. Again, it was empty and quiet. There was something almost peaceful about it, though, when there weren't ghosts or dreary funerals.

"What's-his-name is buried there," Laura said. "Jeremy is."

"Oh, is he?" Mike nodded. "That makes sense, he lived here. My mom's buried there."

"How'd she die?"

"Car accident." Mike said with a bit of a shiver. Up until the beginning of summer, he'd been horribly terrified of cars.

"Ouch." Laura said. "Sorry to hear that."

Mike shrugged. "She wasn't exactly the world's best mom."

At this Laura laughed.

When they reached Mike's neighborhood, Laura stayed quiet so that Mike wouldn't appear to be talking aloud to nobody. Kids were playing or raking up leaves in their yards while their parents stayed inside watching football, or sat on their porches keeping a watchful eye on their children.

Mike heard his dog's howling bark before he caught sight of his house. A black blur that could only be Spike was darting to and fro and barking either at a squirrel or a cat that the chain-link fence prevented him from getting to. He turned his head directly across from his house to where Jack lived. He opened his mouth to mutter to Laura, but a loud yelp cut him off.

"HEY!"

Mike jumped and realized Tulia, his next-door neighbors' daughter, was running around her yard, bundled up in a purple coat. She was looking over the fence, into Mike's yard, while another little girl stood behind her, looking unimpressed.

Just seeing the little girl made Mike's blood pressure rise. Tulia's parents were very nice and welcoming, but Tulia, on the other hand…

"I thought you said you had a pink pony." The girl behind Tulia said.

"Yeah it's on that dude's roof." Tulia said, staring at the roof of Mike's house..

"Why?" The girl asked.

"My stupid cousin threw it up there." Tulia said.

Mike watched as the two girls bickered over the pony and how valuable it was compared to a pony with glitter. They fought and stared at Mike's roof and Tulia even blamed Mike for keeping the pony all to himself, until Tulia's mother came outside and hurried them in to where it was warmer.

The slamming of a door across the street tapped his eardrums. His attention suddenly left Tulia as he heard the door to Jack's house open and close.

The young man walked down his driveway with his gaze fixed on his mailbox, but he soon saw Mike and smiled sweetly at him, waving. Mike returned the gesture, and Jack took it as an invitation to a conversation.

 _Great._ Mike thought.

"…What the…?" he heard Laura mutter suddenly beside him.

"Hi, Mike!" Jack said with a smile. "How are you?"

"Pretty fly," Mike said. "For a white guy."

Jack giggled and covered his mouth. "You're so funny!"

Mike shrugged. "It's not like I try or anything."

"I'm sorry I cut off our phone conversation earlier…I guess I just feel more comfortable talking to people in person, you know?" Jack leaned on his hip and adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses. His pink eyes shifted.

"Yeah, I guess." Mike shrugged.

"Are you busy?" Jack asked. "It's awfully chilly out here. We could go inside and share a cup of tea, if you'd like." He jerked his head towards his house.

"Say _no_." Laura hissed in Mike's ear suddenly. "Just say _no_. Make up any excuse you want, but say _no_."

"Sorry, I can't." Mike said. "I've really got to practice my bassoon. I've…got a performance coming up." He lied.

"Really?" Jack raised his strawberry-blonde eyebrows in appreciation. "When is it? I'd love to see you perform."

"Shit." Laura muttered.

"Shit- I mean…uh, it's Friday night…at-uh-six. At the college." Mike stammered.

"Will Marionette be there?" Jack asked.

"No- she's working."

"Oh…Well, then…Would you like to go out to dinner afterwards?" Jack flushed a light shade of pink.

"Sure." Laura muttered.

"Sure." Mike repeated.

"Oh, shit, sorry. I meant 'no'. I'm just hungry." Laura almost chuckled.

Mike's fist tightened in his jacket pocket.

"Great!" Jack blushed and smiled. "I really look forward to it!" He shuffled his feet. "I guess I'll let you go, you've probably got a lot of practicing to do." He waved and headed off towards his house. He paused suddenly and turned around. His pink eyes shifted. "M-Mike wait,"

"Yeah?" Mike raised an eyebrow.

Jack froze for a moment. He shook his head. "Ah…don't worry about it…it's nothing." He turned around and left.

Mike waited until Jack had vanished into his home before he spoke. "Gee, thanks Laura."

"Okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for the date to happen. But either way, you're still getting a fine piece of ass on Friday." She said.

"Did you see what I meant about him being off?" Mike asked as he opened the gate to the chain link fence surrounding his front yard. His dog eagerly ran up to him and jumped up on him, begging for attention.

" _Yes_!" Laura breathed. "He is…I don't even know WHAT it is!"

"I…didn't think it was that bad." Mike shrugged, walking up the porch steps to his house. He held open the front door for Spike and slipped into the warmth of his home.

"No, it's…something with his soul- it's…I have no idea, this is something Vincent needs to see."

* * *

" _Aye! I wasn't right, wasn't I?"_

 _"You always are, no need to rub it in, Jesus."_

 _"I was right as well, wasn't I? I knew he shouldn't get into this mess!"_

 _"Guys, what are you talking about? This isn't something to argue over at all! We should be helping…"_

Mike's feet swayed underneath him. Before he opened his eyes, he could smell the salty wind of the sea. He was standing in the crow's nest of a massive ship, sailing over a black sea in the middle of the night. He smiled, gripping the wooden rail of the crow's nest as the wind blew in his face.

"Help!" A cry from below made him jump.

He looked over the rail to see Jack standing below him on one of the yards, holding tightly to the main mast.

"Jack?" Mike frowned. "What are you doing here?!"

"I-I don't know!" Jack cried. He looked up pleadingly at Mike. "Mike, help me! Please!"

"Just climb on up!" Mike waved his hand.

"I-I can't!"

"Sure you can!" Mike said. "Climb the ladder; you're right next to it!"

Jack hesitantly reached his hand around to grab hold to a part of the ladder leading up to the crow's nest. As his fingers touched it, the ship tipped heavily to its one side, throwing Mike against one side of the nest and sending Jack flying from the mast.

"Help me!" He cried as the ship tilted. His hold on the ship was gone and he was pitched in to the black, foamy sea.

* * *

Mike awoke with a headache. He ran his hands through his short hair. _That's weird._ This new neighbor of his was driving him crazy. A sense of peace trickled into his mind.

It was no matter. By now, Laura will have discussed the situation with Vincent and they'll have come up with a solution to the problem. Though, he couldn't help but wonder what it was Laura sensed. Ghosts had a sixth sense about them. They sensed the way a person was spiritually. They could see the way their soul harmonized with their physical body and could tell when something was off.

There was a knock at his door and Marionette walked in.

"I don't think I said 'come in'." Mike frowned at her, still lying on his bed beneath the warm blanket.

She only shrugged. "I live here too."

"Oh, that's something you failed to tell me!" Mike snapped his fingers in remembrance. "When were you going to tell me that your name is Marionette _Fitzgerald_?"

She only stared at him, her hand paused on the door. "…What?"

"You told Jack your last name was Fitzgerald." Mike said.

"Yeah?" She looked at the floor. "….Yeah."

He sat up and crossed his arms. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

She shuffled her feet. "…What about?"

He gave her a look. "Seriously?"

"It was the first name that popped into my head!" Marionette said. "Besides, it's not like it BOTHERED Jeremy!"

Mike waved his hands. "You know what? I don't want to hear it."

"Yeah, I'm sure you don't you've got somewhere to be." Marionette crossed her arms.

"I do?" Mike frowned. His stomach dropped as he realized it was Monday; he was late for his classes. "…I do."

* * *

"So, Scrappy, how are you doing?" Vincent asked his ghost friend, who was sitting on an arm chair. He'd been in quite a miserable state when they found him, but it seemed he was doing much better and less fearful.

"I'm doing better…" The ghost said quietly, listening to some pop tune on a ghost-manifested radio.

"You aren't still having episodes are you?" Vincent asked him. "You have to tell me these things so I can help you."

"I'm fine, I promise, I'm not lying." The ghost said, turning to him with a smile. "I'm just…ready to move on."

Vincent nodded. "That makes sense. And don't worry, you're time will come. Everyone's does, eventually. No one stays on Earth forever." He added, reassuringly.

Scrappy nodded and leaned back. "I just…feel like I don't have anything left to do here."

"You know you don't have to stay in the warehouse, right?" Vincent told him. "You can go out and see the world- no one's keeping you here. In fact, it'd probably good for you to get out."

He shrugged. "I don't know…I don't want to go alone."

"So ask one of us to come along."

Vincent turned and saw Laura approaching from the mirror, combing her fingers through her short hair. She approached Scrappy and gestured to herself. "Vincent used to take us on trips all around the world if we started to get sick of being in the restaurant all the time." She said. "I'm sure Jess or one of the guys will want to go with you somewhere- John and Chris practically have Europe like scanned into their brains and Jess loves Asia."

"You don't have brains." Vincent corrected her sarcastically. "None of us have brains."

She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and let her eyelids flutter in annoyance.

Scrappy nodded. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

"Alright, well I'm going to leave you to it while I check on a few of the other ghosts." Vincent said, waving and walking away to leave him in peace. As he did, he pulled Laura aside.

"Did you follow Mike and check out his neighbor?"He asked.

"I did, he was hot." Laura said, nodding. Before Vincent could roll his eyes, she shook her head. "I'm kidding. Seriously though, that dude is _messed_ _up_. I don't know what's up with him but it is _creepy_."

"Creepy how?" Vincent asked. "Is it possession?"

"No…I know all of the forms of possession. I know everything you've studied and shown us." She frowned. "It's like there's…two people there. Full people."

Vincent tilted his head inquiringly. "…Go on?"

"Physically, though. It's like two physical souls and bodies merged together…"

"…And this is a harmonious thing? Is it physical in a good way?" Vincent asked.

"No. One of them doesn't belong. Someone is _not_ supposed to be there. It's almost like they're…taking over…" Laura squinted. "I don't know what it is; I don't know how to fix it."

Vincent rubbed his chin. "How does he act? Outwardly?"

"Normal…" Laura shook her head. "He acts fine, like everything's peachy and life is wonderful."

"You said it was like two people were there?" Vincent asked. "Who? Who was the second person?"

"I don't know. It wasn't a ghost…It wasn't a human…or an animal or anything that was really _alive_ -alive…But what else could it be?" She asked.

Vincent squinted in deep thought. A look of realization dawned on his face slowly, but surely. He looked at Laura and she knew his answer before he said it aloud.

"A robot."

 **This part is much more boring than the last. I thought it would be cool to make the ghost-kids as teenagers. Vincent and them don't really have as big of a role in this story as they did in the last one but I still think it'd be neat to add them in.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yo Part 3 son. This one's more interesting than the last one, I think. And whadda ya? Tomorrow marks my two year anniversary of being here so how about that.**

It was late when Mike arrived home. The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow on the neighborhood. It looked like a very comfortable evening, despite the biting cold that seeped through Mike's coat as he climbed out of his car and headed towards his house. He would've been home much earlier, but he'd gone out to the bakery to get a cupcake and ended up spending much more time there than he probably should have.

And yet, the entire time he could only think of the fact that Chica had been itching to simply set foot in the place ever since she found out that the bakery existed…And she never did. The thought soured his mood and his appetite and he'd gone home.

As he was about to set foot inside, however, the front door opened, and he came face to face with Marionette, who was geared up in her rollerblades with a black and white scarf wrapped around her neck.

He frowned as he looked her up and down. She wasn't wearing a coat. "Jeez it's cold, better wear a scarf." He mocked.

She rolled her eyes. "I get hot when I rollerblade in a coat." She said. "I just wear the scarf to keep the cold wind out of my face."

"Where are you going?" Mike frowned.

"The warehouse." Marionette said. "Vincent said he needed help with the ghost they caught."

Mike shrugged. "I guess I'll go, too."

"Well I sure hope you can keep up." Marionette said, pushing past him and skating down the walkway out on the sidewalk. Giving him a smirk, she sped up and skated away.

Knowing she had no intentions of slowing down or giving him any chance whatsoever to catch up, Mike stared after her with a heavy sigh. He would have to walk alone. In the cold. All the way to the warehouse.

A thought drifted into his mind that caused a smirk to spread across his face.

Five minutes later, he was speeding down the street on his sleek red motorcycle. True, he regretted not wearing a scarf, but his helmet blocked out most of the cold. He held his smug grin until he caught up with Marionette on Cemetery Road. She threw a sideways glance as he passed her then did a double take as she recognized him.

Laughing, he slowed down and waited for her to catch up to him. He flicked up the visor of his helmet up. "Hey, there, missy, need a ride?" He asked, jokingly.

"Depends." Marionette said with a half-grin. "Where you headed?"

"Oh, just some shabby old warehouse where this old freak lives."

"Sounds like a party to me." Marionette shrugged.

Mike chuckled and waved his arm to her. "Hop on." He waited patiently while she skated over and climbed onto the space behind him and slipped her arms around him to hold on.

"You good?" He called over his shoulder.

"Yeah." Marionette answered.

Mike set off again at a speed that seemed a little more brisk without the bulk of his car. The darkened street curved classically in the shadow, illuminated only by the lights of the motorcycle. It could be characterized as aesthetic or creepy. He was about to call over his shoulder to Marionette when a shriek and an eerie, pale shadow zipped by him.

His foot went for the brakes and Marionette lurched against them with a bit of a disgruntled yelp.

"What was that for?" She asked.

"Did you see…That!" Mike pointed behind them to a strange, garbled shape that was running away from them. It floated shapelessly in the air in the direction that they had come.

"Looks like a ghost…" Marionette commented, following his gaze. "Think we should leave it alone and tell Vincent or…?"

Before Mike could finish his sentence, a familiar voice yelled from ahead, "…Corner it before it reaches the park!"

The blurred shapes of John and Chris whizzed by Mike's eyes and moments later the forms of Vincent and Laura came into view. When the two ghosts caught sight of Mike and Marionette, they rushed over.

"Mike, quick, get off the motorcycle." Vincent said, nearly shoving Mike off of it.

"Why?" Mike asked, climbing off of his vehicle and letting Marionette slide up front.

Vincent ignored him and starting speaking directly to Marionette. "Quick. I need you to follow that ghost right now- take Laura with you, and don't stop until she pins it down, okay?"

"Rodger-dodger." Marionette saluted him.

"Now go! Go, go, go, go, go!" Vincent ushered her away.

Marionette revved the engine and sped off in a sharp U-turn with Laura trailing just behind her. Mike watched them vanish around one of the many bends of Cemetery Road and stretched his arms out at Vincent.

"Great." He rolled his eyes. "Now what about us?"

Vincent looked past him. "Run with me." He said, speeding past Mike. While he was still a ghost, he dropped so that his hovering feet connected with the road, allowing himself to relate to Mike's speed.

Mike ran alongside him, following the path of the motorcycle. "What do you need me for?"

"Two things." Vincent said. "One: I need your extended vision in case Marionette or the boys lose track of the ghost." He said. "Two: I need to tell you something about that neighbor of yours."

"Oh, yeah," Mike raised his eyebrows. "Did Laura tell you she helped me schedule a date with him?" He asked sarcastically.

"Well, you're just gonna have to cancel, Mike," Vincent said. "Laura and I have a theory. It's not a sturdy one and we don't even know if it's possible…But we think Jack is actually-"

A static sound cut Vincent off. The ghost reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a walkie-talkie. "What?!" he barked.

"Vince, we got him!" Chris' voice cried triumphantly through the speakers. "We're in Mike's neighborhood, a few blocks away from his house!"

Vincent frowned. "…I…thought the ghost we were chasing was a 'her' not a 'him'…."

There was a pause.

"…Well, we got someone, then." Chris said.

"Don't worry, Vincent," Laura's voice came through. "Marionette and I are on her trail."

Vincent shoved the device back into his pocket and ran a hand through his hair. "Good grief…" He muttered. "I better go see what they've caught." He turned to Mike. "Just meet us in your neighborhood by your house, okay?"

"10-4." Mike said lazily.

In a flash, Vincent was gone, leaving Mike at the end of Cemetery Road. Now, he was alone in the dark, standing in front of the entrance to the park. Their lamppost lights slightly illuminated his world in bulbs of gold and orange. He sighed, turned right, and headed down the street towards his neighborhood.

Tomorrow he'd start out the day with a simple plan, he told himself. He'd go to his classes, he'd come home, he'd watch TV, and nothing weird or surprising would happen. It would be a normal day, like the kind he used to have… That was funny.

What was a normal day? Was it the compilation of days spent in loneliness, drifting around without friends or coworkers and wondering just what his purpose was in life? Was it the day worrying about finding a job that he could walk to and from everyday, out of fear? Was it life way back when; back to when he had a family; a family with no blood relation to him…no blood at all, in fact? Was it the few years afterwards when that family seemed absent, unreal, and an illusion? Was it the past year where his life and friends seemed to fall into place all at once? Or was it this past summer, sitting quietly in a still house with a dog and a roommate?

Maybe, there was no such thing as a normal day. Life was never really meant to be normal. People were meant to face challenges and…weird things every day of their lives. But, then, Mike couldn't think of anyone who had gone through the strange things he went through.

And that was a funny thing; it had never really been strange to him when he was little. It was actually quite normal. He rolled with everything like that was the way it was meant to be…It wasn't until he listened to the words of the people around him did he come to realize that his life-his childhood- had been 'strange'.

"Define 'strange'." He said aloud, to no-one.

 _"Something that isn't right, something you don't mess with."_

 _"You!"_

 _"Something silly."_

 _"Somethin' outta the ordinary that could be good or bad. Dependin' on how ye look at it."_

There were a number of ways to define such a word.

Mike drew his coat tighter around him was he wound his way around his neighborhood. "I guess 'strange' is just a word used to describe something you're not used to." He shrugged. "So I guess I'm not that strange…"

A warm breeze drifted faintly through, carrying with it the scent of the dead summer. He looked up at the rows of houses in his neighborhood. Each house was dark with sleep. He had too many memories of police chases and sneaks around the blocks to see the setting as anything other than peaceful. It was a bittersweet thing, really.

A sudden, horrible noise made him stop dead in his tracks.

He looked up. It was a disturbing, inhuman shriek from Jack's house. Mike let out a breath as the aftershock of the noise wore off and his stiff fear began to ebb. He shivered and stared at the dark, empty-looking home. To his surprise, as he waited, no other neighbors came outside to find the source of the noise. None of the houses around him cut their lights on in curiosity. Mike looked across from Jack's houses to his own. Even Spike was fast asleep on the front porch.

A second scream came, a garbled, ripping moan that sent chills crawling up Mike's back. It didn't sound like Jack's voice. It didn't even sound alive…His stiff fear was then replaced with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He should call for Vincent. He should call for one of the ghosts- or even Marionette. His stomach twisted in a sickened way. He began to feel his pulse throb in his ears. Standing rooted firmly where he was on the sidewalk, Mike extended his vision towards Jack's house. His sight crawled over the street, passed the mailbox, up and over the driveway, on the white path to the front door…

Just as his vision tried to creep through the door, everything had gone black. All he saw were a pair of green eyes, watching him. Even as he tried to turn around them, they turned with him. Empty, glassy, piercing, suspended in black nothingness…

Mike jumped and pulled his vision back in.

There was one more scream, sounding much more like a choke than a cry.

Mike stood still on the street as if there was a threshold in front of him. "I'm going to regret this…" He swallowed hard and moved closer to the house, ignoring the twist of horror deep in his gut. His heart rate quickened with every step. It would be so much easier- so much better-to turn around and run right across the street to his home. Even so, if the screaming was to continue, Mike wouldn't be able to sleep.

But, he was doing a good thing. He was going to help someone. Or, at least, try and help them. Who knows? Maybe the screaming was just the sound of a broken down blender making a smoothie? Or what if Jack was being held hostage and those screams were his only form of a distress signal…or what if he was half-dead and his body was so horribly mangled that those were the only sounds he could make…

Mike shuddered and swallowed. _It's okay._ He told himself. _I've been around a dead body before. I've been around ghosts before. I can call the police to deal with the body. I can call Vincent to take care of the ghost._ But what if the murderer was still there, waiting for someone like Mike to try and help…waiting for their next victim…What if it wasn't a murder at all, but some horrible disease? The plague? What if it was a rabid animal that was eating Jack alive?

 _"Turn around!"_

 _"We didn't save your life just so you can go and kill yourself again!"_

 _"Please be careful! Please!"_

 _"Follow your gut. Do the right thing."_

Mike raised his fist and knocked on Jack's front door. He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't realized he already had made it so far. He didn't expect anyone to answer, but he called out, anyway.

"Jack…?" Mike called, a little hesitantly. "Jack, it's me. You…uh…don't sound so good. Is everything okay?"

An eerie silence followed him. There wasn't even the sound of a scream.

"…I'm coming in now, okay?" Mike rested his hand on the door knob. He hesitated once more before turning the knob and pushing to door open.

The lights were off. The welcoming, pale shades of the house were stained dark. The scent of vanilla was absent. The TV in the living room was on, but all that was on the screen was static. The couch had been turned upside down and the soft-looking throw pillows were scattered across the floor with little tears in them. There were dents in the TV and a small crack across the screen.

"Jack?" Mike called out. "Where are you?" He turned and glanced into the kitchen, wondering if he should arm himself with a knife or wondering if someone was already armed and waiting to kill him. After hearing nothing but the static of the TV, he decided to enter the kitchen.

The sink was running. The refrigerator door was open. When Mike looked inside, there was no food of any sort inside. Half-curiously he opened the freezer door and found a lonely carton of vanilla ice cream. A few cabinet doors were open, revealing empty shelves. There were strange scrapes on the counter tops, as if someone had repeatedly lashed at it with a knife. Two draws had been tipped over and the floor was littered with spoons, forks, and other small tools for cooking and eating. Mike turned to the counter next to the sink and saw that all of the knives had been neatly laid out, ranging from little butter knives to large, serrated bread knives. One of the steak knives was tilted out of line. There was a sticky red substance covering it. Blood was smeared across the counter top and as Mike looked down he saw black drops of it on the white tile.

"…Jack?" Mike called again. "Jack I'm about to call the police or something, are you okay?"

He grabbed a steak knife as he spoke. "Listen, pal, I just want to know if you're all good."

There was nothing to answer him but the sound of the TV and running water. Mike looked to the blood on the floor and followed it cautiously around the kitchen to the living room again. He followed it to a black hallway and looked down it. At the very end there were two rooms across from each other. Just next to him was a bathroom, with the door wide open.

There were two mirrors, and both of them had been smashed. There was an ugly amount of blood on the edge of the sink. It was in little puddles on the floor. Mike looked closer and saw a large splatter of it against the wall, along with smearing, red, groping handprints.

"What happened here…?" He asked himself.

There was a slamming noise behind one of the doors at the end of the hallway that made him freeze. His hand gripped the handle of the knife hard. His pulse thundered in his ears. When he regained control of himself, he stepped out of the bathroom and looked down the hallway. His hands were shaking.

The noise came again in a repeating, rhythmic series. _Thud…thud…thud…thud…_ When it stopped, there was a guttural, inhuman moan that followed it. It sounded like a soul being grinded against metal.

"Jack…?" Mike wanted to call out, but all that escaped him was a fearful whisper. He cleared his throat and tried to sound more confident. "Jack?"

This time, he received an answer, but it wasn't exactly one that he wanted to hear. It was a ragged, crumbling shriek that was desperately trying to form the word 'help'. It still didn't sound like Jack- or a human.

Mike gripped the handle of the knife and his stomach twisted. He briefly closed his eyes. _God help me_. He thought, swallowing hard before journeying down the hallway to the room. The closer he got to the door, the more blood he saw on the carpet, as well as noting that the carpet became more ragged and ripped up.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of a wooden door covered in blood and scrapes. It was cracked open, but there was no light escaping the room.

"Jack, it's me." Mike said. "I'm right here."

He heard thumping from within the room. The tiny crack of the door was suddenly slammed shut and a gurgling, grinding noise sounded from within the room.

"Jack?" Mike called out. His knuckles were white where they gripped the knife. "Did…you want me to come in, or…?"

There was another horrible thud and a shriek. Mike turned the handle to the room and opened the door. His first instinct was to reach out for a light switch, but before he could find one, a cold, wet hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him deeper within the room.

A yell escaped him and he blindly swung the knife. The hand let go of him, leaving a sticky print on his wrist. Mike could smell blood. Through a window, the moon peeked through the clouds and let in a wisp of light so incredibly faint that Mike could barely make out shadows. It was enough, however, that he could make out the twitching shape of a human in the corner of the room.

It was very slightly convulsing, and strange moans were escaping it.

"Jack?" Mike breathed out.

The shape froze and its head snapped in his direction. Green eyes glowed at him. They were malicious. The shape lunged for him, but stumbled somehow and fell. Mike watched it as it convulsed with a choke. It gripped some piece of furniture and ruthlessly brought its own head down against it with a thud so loud Mike shuddered.

"Who are you?" Mike asked.

The shape looked up at him. "…Save…me…." It croaked out. Its voice almost sounded…robotic.

"S-save you?" Mike echoed.

The figure shrieked and threw itself against the wall. It crumpled and twitched. When it looked up at him again, it spoke. "Please….Save…me…save…"

With a shudder, Mike crept closer. "You better not try and kill me," He muttered aloud fearfully. "I have a knife."

Those words seemed to trigger something in the figure. It lunged itself at Mike.

Instinctively, Mike screamed and thrust the knife forward.

The figure made a little choking noise as the blade burrowed into its chest. For a moment, it was frozen, its green eyes locked with Mike's. Its cold hand then took hold of Mike's and drew the knife back out of its chest. Repeatedly, it stabbed itself over and over until it finally crumpled to the ground and lay still.

Mike waited, fixed with horror. He knew that when people were murdered, their ghosts screamed in anguish and fled from the body. He waited to hear the wailing. He waited to see the inhuman shadow stretch out on the walls. But it never came.

He met silence. His hands quivered, the knife still held tightly in his right fist. As he waited, a horrible thought crept into his mind. _I just killed someone._ He realized. _I just stabbed someone to death. I murdered a human being…_ His throat felt suddenly tight. _I killed someone._

A figure appeared in front of him, over the body. It was pale, transparent, and slightly glowing. As it formed, Mike made out strawberry hair and pink eyes.

"Jack?"

Jack stared at him solemnly. "I'm sorry, Mike." He said. "I didn't want to bring you into this. I didn't want to bring anyone into this..." He shook his head and his voice cracked. "But I couldn't help myself. I read about your story when I was in Utah. I knew you could help me. You were the only person who could possibly understand how to fix this mess. If I went to the police or the doctor, it'd be too obvious; she'd catch on and hold me back."

Mike stared at him. "What…?"

"I tried to explain it to you, but every time I did, she caught on," Jack continued. "She knew what I was trying to do. I just wanted to get my body back…" He sighed. "But that…wouldn't work. It couldn't work this way." He wiped his eyes with his hand. "I tried, but she made it almost impossible…I knew I had to get someone else to do it, and when you said you had the knife I knew it would work." He half-smiled and looked up. "Thank you for saving me."

"But…"Mike stammered. "I just _murdered_ you!"

Jack half-chuckled in his characteristically sweet way. "You did…but you killed her, too…You set me free." He smiled. "It was so miserable…" He sighed. "I'll…never be able to do a lot of things I wanted to do." He admitted, sadness taking over his expression. "I'll be stuck here, on Earth, but I won't be able to do anything…or meet anyone…" He folded his hands. "I know your friends are ghosts. I could see them…sometimes. I saw that girl with you the other day." He said. "I know they can help me in this state, but...I need to be alone for a little while. I'll come back to visit-ah, I'm sorry, you're probably tired of seeing ghosts." He held up his hand in a slight wave. "Well…sorry to be a burden."

Before Mike could say anything, Jack's figure faded and was soon gone. Mike stared at where he'd last seen him, trying to make sense of his speech. "She…" he echoed. "Who was 'she'…?"

"Mike! Mike, are you in here?!"

"Mike-oh, god, I should've told him…"

Mike was jerked out of his thoughts by a pair of familiar voices. "Vince…Marionette!" He answered them. "I'm okay! I'm in here!"

He heard running footsteps and soon the ghost of Vincent and the shape of Marionette appeared in the doorway. Marionette reached over and flicked the light switch on. The scene illuminated before them made Mike feel sick.

Blood was smeared all along the cream colored walls. It came in splatters in some areas and smearing hand prints in others. The lamp was upside down on the night stand. The dresser had been tipped over and all of the drawers had been pulled from it. There was blood on all four corners of the dresser and each of its cabinets. The closet door was open and cluttered with clothes. The soft white carpet was torn up and painted with blood. The bed was upside down and blankets were torn and strewn across it. All of the mirrors in the room were shattered.

Lying in front of Mike was a body. It was covered in blood. There were dents in the front of its head and multiple scrapes on its arms. Its pink eyes were glazed over from death. Its once kind face was pale and sick-looking. Its lips were parted slightly and blood was leaking out in little trails.

"Jack…" Marionette gasped. "What…what happened to him?" She glanced up and saw the bloody knife in Mike's hand. An indescribable dark horror overtook her face. "…You…."

"It's not like that!" Mike blurted out. Before he could elaborate, Vincent moved between the two.

"Look," He knelt down beside the body and motioned to Jack's bloody left arm. There was an ugly deep gash in it. He looked over Jack's blood-covered face and head. "Look at his head…Blunt force like that would kill a human instantly…" He glanced up at Mike. "But he died from the stab wound, didn't he?"

Mike nodded, and Vincent continued. "Mike, how many ghosts did you see when he died?"

"Just one." Mike said. "It was Jack's ghost."

Vincent nodded. "Just as I thought."

Marionette shook her head. "I don't understand what's going on. Why would Jack trash his own house and try to kill himself? He was so happy and social-it doesn't make sense."

"That's the idea." Vincent said, looking Jack's body over. "If Jack had a job and family in his other town, why did he move here? Why did he leave his opportunity and his family to come to a place where he knew no one? Why not to the city? Why to this sleepy little town?"

Marionette listened to his words carefully. "…He said he felt trapped where he was before."

"Of course he did." Vincent rolled his eyes.

"Wait." Mike said. "Before Jack left- he told me some things. He told me he came here because he needed my help and…'she' wouldn't let him tell me the truth. I don't know what he meant or who 'she' was."

Vincent nodded. "It makes sense…" He glanced down at the body. "Poor guy, he just couldn't get away…"

Marionette shook her head. "I still don't understand."

Vincent stood up and rubbed his chin. "Jack came from Utah, he said that, right?"

Mike nodded and Vincent continued. "There was a place in Utah, similar to the pizzeria that used to be here. It had dancing robots," He motioned to Marionette. "Like you and the others. But it wasn't the same. I went to visit there after my death with the kids. The robots there…aren't like you and the others were. They were highly advanced and intelligent, but they were lacking something. There was something not right about them. They always tended to stare at the workers as if they were _analyzing_ them. They're soulless. They lack morals and common emotion and have only logic. Just a few weeks ago, I read in the paper that one of them went missing and that a maintenance man quit." He shook his head. "I should've pieced it together!"

Marionette shook her head. "You're saying that...the robot that went missing, she… _built_ _herself_ into Jack?"

Vincent took the knife out of Mike's hand and flipped it so that he was holding the blade. He knelt down to Jack again and tapped on his skull with the handle of the knife. The dull clank of metal sounded against the tap of the handle.

"The robots got sick of doing the same thing. They got tired of their routine, and they knew that if they wanted to leave, they had to look like a human." Vincent explained. "That missing robot built herself into Jack…Somehow, she managed to preserve some of his natural anatomy-his heart, his blood, his skin and face. Jack was still, technically, alive. His soul remained to be in contact with what was left of his original body. But the robot was also in control of the body. She was in control of part of his brain and most of his limbs. She could override the will of his soul."

Marionette squinted. "So she possessed him…physically?"

"Right." Vincent said. "You can draw a soul out of a body. But what happened to Jack…if you were to take the robot out of him, he'd die. He has too much metal worked into him- a metal skull, metal limbs, wires with his veins…" He shook his head. "Jack knew that the only way to save himself was to kill the robot within him…He had to kill both her and himself." He glanced around at the bloody walls. "By the looks of things, he tried."

"There was no other way, then?" Marionette asked, looking solemn. "He _had_ to die?"

"To be truly free?" Vincent nodded. "Yes."

"Why couldn't we just push out the robot's soul, then?" Marionette asked, frowning.

Vincent half-smiled. "Because, I told you, this robot-all of the ones back at that place- they aren't like you. I knew they were missing something, but I didn't know what. Now I do." He motioned to the body. "When Jack died, only one soul left his body. Those robots back there didn't have souls. They were just complex creations with high intelligence: you can go through life doing everything you can to make yourself the best you can be, but what really defines you is the way you treat others."

He looked at Marionette. "Back at the old place, you were bound to one room with strings. You could hardly talk to anyone-for at least two to three years."

Marionette nodded. "That sucked."

"If you had been given a way out of that life, but it involved the consistent torment of another person, would you take it?"

She shook her head. "Of course not…It's not worth it."

Vincent nodded. "It would seem that those robots tend to think otherwise. They do what is logical, not what is right."

Mike listened to his speech while staring at the body. In a way, he had been right, and in a way, he had been wrong. Jack was kind of weird…but that wasn't _really_ him- he had just been looking for someone to help him. Either way, Jack's fate was inevitable. There was nothing Mike could have done to prevent it other than attempting to give him a death that was less…brutal.

"Did he say where he went?" Vincent asked, rising Mike from his thoughts. "Jack's ghost?"

"No," Mike shook his head. "He said he needed to be alone- but he's seen you around- and he knows you guys can help him."

Vincent nodded and shrugged. "Understandable."

"So…now what?" Marionette asked, looking around. "What do we do?"

"Call the police and tell them the truth." Vincent said. "Tell them you heard screaming, and when you went to check on your neighbor, he attacked you. That's…technically what happened, right?"

"Yes," Mike said, nodding. "I didn't really mean to kill him…He just lunged for me, so I…"

"Self-defense." Vincent nodded.

"But…what about him being half-robot?" Marionette asked. "What happens when they find that out?"

Vincent shrugged. "I suppose they'll try to keep everything hush-hush once they find that out. They'll probably be able to trace back the mechanics of the robot to that kids place. Perhaps they'll be able to piece the story together for themselves."

Once Vincent left to return to the warehouse, Mike and Marionette called the police. They were both asked plenty of questions and, as dawn broke, some of the neighbors crept out on their porches to see what all of the fuss was about.

Even after Mike and Marionette were told to go home, Mike stayed by the window, watching the house and the policemen. By the time the last police car had gone, it was around noon. The sky was bright and cloudless, but the October air was bitterly chilly.

"What're you thinkin' about?" Marionette asked him. She was upside down on the couch with her feet hanging over the back, watching a re-run episode of Chanteys.

Mike ran a hand through his short dark hair. "I don't know…Still a little messed up about Jack, I guess. I mean I…killed him. And I know it was the only way to set him free, and I know it was self-defense and all but, still…" He shook his head. "It was horrible." He then frowned. "And there's another thing. If someone dies before they're meant to- like by murder or accident- their soul remains here on Earth. Foxy and the others burned to death in a freakin' fire, but they're ghosts aren't anywhere."

Marionette listened to his words and nodded. "You're right…I…guess it was their time." She shook her head. "That's weird…" She then followed his gaze to the window. "Well I guess it's just you and me again, huh? It's…kind of as if Jack never existed."

"Yeah…" He knew the feeling all too well and ran a hand through his hair. "I wonder if this is going to be a regular thing; people coming into our lives and then leaving without a trace…"

"Well, no matter what it is, we'll go through it together." She half-smiled. "You've always got me and fat-dog." She glanced at Spike lazing on the armchair. "That's one thing that'll never change."

Mike half-smiled back at her. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

Marionette tapped her chin. "Jack is a ghost now, though, so I wonder if he'll ever come by for a visit?"

Mike shrugged. "Maybe." He felt a buzzing in his shirt pocket and pulled out his cell phone. An unknown number was calling him, but he answered it anyway.

"Hello?"

"H-hey, I know you're probably bothered and all-"

"Jack?" Mike frowned and sat up, recognizing the voice on the other end of the line instantly. He was about to ask how Jack was still alive and calling him, when he remembered that ghosts could send out signals to communicate on phones.

"Y-yeah, hey, annoying, I know-"

"It's not- do you need something?"

"Well, it's just…it seems like we kind of got off on the wrong foot before, I wasn't really, myself…"

"Yeah, no big deal," Mike shrugged. "You can still drop by whenever you want, it's not like Marionette and I have a life outside of ghost-hunting with Vince." He frowned slightly. "Well, Marionette sometimes pretends to be Jeremy's girlfriend or whatever."

"I beg your pardon?" Marionette said from the couch.

Jack chuckled sweetly. "Y-yeah, okay…well…uh…I know I'm a ghost and all, but…I think you're really hot…and really brave...and talented."

Mike tried to hide a laugh. "Jack that's nice and all, but I'm straight."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"…Well, if you change your mind, the offers always open."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"We don't even have to make it official I'm okay with being friends with benefits."

"I'll talk to you later, Jack."

"Alrighty."

Mike ended the call with a half-chuckle and leaned back on the sofa, glancing at his pet and his roommate. He looked to the coffee table and saw the snow globe there, reflecting the light from the window. The little pirate ship inside was still and Mike could see the little figures of Foxy at the bowsprit and himself in the crow's nest.

He frowned, noticing a charred book beside the snow globe. "What's that?" He asked, pointing to it.

"Hm?" Marionette followed his gaze. "Oh…" She turned right-side up and folded her hands in her lap, gently twiddling her thumbs before tenderly reaching out to the book and picking it up carefully, as if it was made of glass.

"You remember the old photo album that Bonnie found in the warehouse? It had all those pictures of the old place in it?" She asked.

"Yeah." Mike nodded. "I thought it burned in the fire."

"So did I, but apparently it wasn't. Vincent found it in the ruins of the place the other day. I wanted it to be a surprise for your birthday or Christmas or whatever, but I don't know." She gave it to him. "I thought you'd like it."

Mike took it from her carefully and looked over the cover. "It feels heavier than it used to be."

"Yeah, it's still intact and everything…And it's updated." Marionette said.

"Updated?" Mike echoed. "What do you mean?" He flipped to the back page and found a photograph with the date June 3rd. The day before the fire. It was a Polaroid photograph of a normal night at the restaurant. Chica, Foxy, Freddy, Bonnie, Marionette, and Mike were all in the picture at a table, eating food and drinking soda, playing cards and laughing. The scene was frozen in time. Mike stared at it, mesmerized by the picture. It felt so real; he could recall half of the jokes that had been told that day. Who would have ever guessed that the very next morning that table and four of those people would disappear from the world?

"It's got a lot more pictures in it, too." Marionette said. "They're not very interesting pictures, I mean we didn't exactly have a camera during the car chases and all of that…so most of them are just us doing nothing or playing Frisbee in the halls."

"It's perfect." Mike said.

 _"Hang on; I don't remember those pictures being taken. Which one of you had a Polaroid?"_

 _"A photo album of us doing nothing and he thinks that's sentimental? What a nerd."_

 _"Aw man, I wish we could go down there and talk to him, I really miss doing nothing."_

 _"We'll see him again...But don't push it. If ye keep lookin' for tomorrow, you'll lose today."_

 **A cheesy quote for an ending? Lame. Anyways, this part gets kind of dark but I thought it would be interesting. Questions and comments are GREATLY appreciated. This little short was meant to make you laugh and didn't exactly follow all the rules of the original story line, but I hoped you liked it all the same. If you've read To Tomorrow and are curious about From Yesterday, I've got quite some explaining to do. From Yesterday is coming along pretty okay, but I REALLY want to rewrite To Tomorrow, because I've got a lot to fix in that story…a lot. So yeah. If you have any questions or suggestions let me know man a'ight I listen to the world, it's important.**


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